


All Shook Up

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sunday at the Burrow and Hermione's first time back there since reuniting with Ron.  Originally published 12 years ago, this is part of my Reconnecting Potterverse and is AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Shook Up

All Shook Up

by Jenorama

I was aware of her unease the minute we stepped into my parents’ house. It was painfully obvious in the way her eyes darted nervously around the kitchen and in the stiff way she held her body when my mum hugged her. Even Harry had learned to relax over the years on the occasions Mum got him in a stranglehold. She put on a brave front during dinner, doing her job of playing catch-up with the myriad events that had happened in my family during her years away, but I could tell she was starting to crack under the strain.

Hermione’s a strong girl, but sometimes memories can get to be too much. I know she was at the Burrow when she got the news about her parents and the drink driver. I’m sure that being there so soon after coming back from America gave her quite a turn.

With that in mind, it was no surprise to me when I saw her quietly slip out of the lounge without a word to anyone. I caught Harry’s eye and inclined my head toward the door to the kitchen. He nodded with a small frown and I knew he was just as concerned about Hermione as I was. As I left the lounge, my mother stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“Is Hermione all right?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, Mum, she’s fine,” I said, hoping I wasn’t lying.

Outside on the porch, I took a deep breath of the cool night air. My tee shirt was sticking to me a little after the warmth in the house and I pulled it away from my skin as I scanned the back garden, looking for her and hoping that she hadn’t Apparated back to the flat or worse, taken a Portkey back to Arizona. My eyes were naturally drawn to the old oak tree by the pond and there she was, the yellow of her top easy to pick out in the moonlight.

“Should have known she’d be there,” I murmured to myself as I walked toward her, careful not to walk too quietly so I wouldn’t scare her. She didn’t flinch at my approach, only turned her head and smiled warmly. “Hey,” I said as I flopped down on the grass next to her.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry about walking out like that. Your mum’s not upset, is she?”

“No, not at all. She’s worried about you, but not upset.”

Hermione looked relieved at my words and she smiled again, showing off her perfect teeth. “I’m glad. Things just got a little intense in there for me, you know?”

“I know. There’re a lot of us and we can’t help but get intense sometimes.” I spread my arms wide and she scooted between my legs and I held her close, still marveling at the reality of her, here with me. Under this tree...sort of where it all started all those years ago with a silly book of questions.

The frogs in the pond sang to us for a while until she spoke again. “The pond’s all overgrown now.”

“Yeah. When all of us kids left, Mum and Dad let it go back to its natural state. Dad said it was too much work to keep up, but Mum said he was just being lazy. Maybe when the grandkids get older, they’ll take it up again.” I took a deep breath, savoring the light, flowery scent of her hair. I’d never tell her this in a million years, but after she went to America, I found about half a bottle of her shampoo in a cupboard at the Burrow. When I’d get to missing her too badly, I’d wash my hair with it. How’s that for corny?

“Thank you for bringing me here tonight. It was wonderful to see everyone again, especially Ginny.” She laughed and shook her head. “It’s so strange to see her so grown-up and confident. I remember her as a young girl, worried about N.E.W.Ts and spots. Now...she’s a grown-up woman with her own career and ideas.”

She sighed and rested her head against my chest. “At least George is still the same. Irreverent wanker forever.”

“He would be very pleased to hear you say that. George’s always worried that he’s getting too respectable these days.”

“Well, definitely don’t tell him. He could use some respectability!” She laughed again and I was very glad to see her relaxing more. I kissed her ear and was rewarded with a satisfied hum. Encouraged, I darted my tongue out and flicked her earlobe, drawing a giggle out of her that changed into another hum as I traced the delicate shell until she drew away with a shiver.

Arranging her skirt around her legs, she made sure to keep her ears out of my reach and she smiled up at me again. “So, you do this every week? Have Sunday dinner at the Burrow?”

“Unless I’m out of town or lying in a ditch somewhere. It’s tradition. Long have the Weasley men returned to their childhood home to parade potential mates before the Weasley matriarch,” I intoned, using a voice that I’d perfected years ago when mocking Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Potential mates?” she repeated with an arched eyebrow. “How many potential mates has this Weasley paraded in front of the ‘Weasley matriarch’?”

“Not a single one.”

“What?” Hermione’s voice was full of amazement and she looked at me skeptically. “Do you mean to tell me that in all these years, you’ve never brought a girl home to meet your mother?”

“Yup.”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, I do. Hermione, I’m dead serious. I’ve never brought anyone here before tonight.”

“Ron...I...well...why not?” She was looking a little out of sorts and her eyes were shiny, like she was about to start blubbing all over the place.

Confused by her reaction, I shrugged. “Dunno,” I said, “guess I never found the right girl.”

“Never found the right girl? Ron! How could you?” Now she sounded angry and she broke out of my embrace and turned to face me, pointing an accusing finger right at my chest. “Don’t you tell me that you never dated anyone in all those years!”

“I dated plenty.” I kept my voice quiet, hoping that if I stayed calm, she’d cool off.

“Well then why didn’t you bring anyone to meet your mum?”

“I didn’t like any of them enough to have them meet her.”

“You didn’t like any of them enough or they weren’t good enough? Not good enough for Ron Weasley, top-notch Auror and sex god?”

Sex god? Where the hell had that come from? She was on a tear now; her voice had reached that strident pitch that I remembered from school days and she was really upset about something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Look, Hermione, if you would just calm down for a moment and we can talk about—”

“What is there to talk about, Ron? Should we talk about what in the world could be wrong with you that in all that time you never cared about anyone enough for her to meet your mother? What was wrong with the other girls, Ron? Where they too perfect? Too pretty? Not pretty enough? Not dumb enough?” Despite my best efforts, I felt my temper beginning to get the better of me.

“Look, you need to—”

“Don’t you tell me what I need, Ron Weasley! What does a girl have to do to get invited for Sunday dinner, Ron? Does she need to get down on her knees and beg? Or does she have to get on her knees to do something else?”

With that comment, I reached the breaking point and my temper flared to life. “Hermione,” I shouted, leaning forward and grabbing on to her wrists, “you’re not making any damn sense! Shut up for a minute and let me say something, okay?” She stared at me for a split second before her face crumpled and she dissolved into tears, diving forward and burying her face in my chest.

I drew her close and comforted her in the best way I knew how, murmuring nonsense into her ear as her sobs finally began to slow down and eventually stopped. I quickly conjured up a handkerchief for her and she sat up to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. I turned my head away so she could have at least a little privacy. I’ve seen a lot of crying women in my time and I can truthfully say that none of them were the least bit beautiful, but Hermione came the closest.

“I’m sorry,” she said, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. She was looking down at the grass, her posture slumped in defeat. “I don’t know what made me say those things.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and I leaned forward to hear her over the chirping of the frogs.

“Hermione, no worries. It’s been stressful on you, coming here again after so long. And your mum and dad... D’you want to go back to the flat?” She shook her head and I drew her back against my chest, squeezing her tight.

“How much have you traveled, Ron?”

This was an interesting change of subject. “I’ve been a fair few places,” I replied, curious as to where she was going with this.

“Have you been to Hawaii?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve seen the waves there, then. That’s sort of what it felt like, coming here. Like I was standing on the shore, watching this giant wave come at me,” she said in a monotone. “All the memories of that awful night, just crashing down on me.”

“Oh, love. I’m so sorry.”

Her voice started to get a bit shaky and I squeezed her tighter. “And I feel so stupid, crying like some sort of blubbering child. God, Ron! I should be finished crying over them!” She sounded angry again and I honestly didn’t know what to say. I felt so incredibly guilty for the fact that my parents were whole and laughing not one hundred yards away.

“Hermione, I...” I started, feeling supremely lame. I was saved from whatever stupid platitude was about to come out of my mouth by her finger on my lips.

“Shh...there’s nothing you can say, Ron. Just...be yourself.”

“Okay,” I whispered, concentrating on being myself. It’s harder than you think, but I think I did all right. Hermione seemed to think so as she snuggled tighter against my chest.

“Ron,” she said after we spent some time of just being ourselves.

“Mmm?”

“I want to ask you a question, but you have to promise me you won’t get upset.”

“Hermione, you know that’s ridiculous. How can I promise that if I don’t know what you’re going to ask?”

“I know it’s a completely unrealistic question, but I would just...feel better if you promised.”

“Okay, love. I promise I won’t get upset at whatever it is you want to ask me.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath and I had the idea that she was sort of steeling herself and I was really wondering just what it was she was going to ask me. “Ron, who’s Pandora?”

You know that feeling you get when you’re walking along the sidewalk and everything is free and easy? And then you don’t see that step down and your stomach does that swoop and you feel that sort of bright jangle along all your nerves when your foot doesn’t come down in the expected place? That’s what I felt when I heard that name come out of her mouth and I had a very clear idea of why she’d become so agitated earlier.

She was looking at me anxiously, waiting for an answer or some sort of reaction and I took a deep breath. “Ah, Pandora. Well, I suppose you could call Pandora a bit of a necessary mistake.” I looked down at her and gave her a small smile, reassuring her that I wasn’t upset. Startled, but not upset. “Now, I have a question for you. How did you find out about Pandora?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.

“I went through some of your things when you and Harry were out earlier today.” Her voice was defiant, as if she was daring me to get angry with her over the invasion of my privacy. Of course, I’d known about the invasion the moment I stepped into the flat that afternoon. Harry and I sometimes made a game out of it, taking or leaving things for the other to miss or find. We were both trained in these sorts of things and Hermione was definitely not up to making a sock drawer look like it had been untouched.

“Yes, I knew that already.”

“You did?” She pulled away from me a little and regarded me skeptically.

“Hermione, I’m an Auror. I may be messy, but I can easily tell when my papers and shirts have been shuffled around.” I stroked her cheek and got a smile in return.

“Well, I suppose it was naïve of me to think that you wouldn’t be able to tell that I’d been snooping. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I know how curious you are and I have to say that if I had been in your situation, I would have done the same thing. Only, I wouldn’t have been caught.” I gave her a cocky grin and her soft laugh warmed my heart. “What did you find? The letters?”

She nodded. Her hair was falling out of its bun and she tucked the stray tendrils behind her ears. “Yes. Who was she, Ron? Why...why didn’t it work out between the two of you?”

“Are you sure you want to know? You have to promise not to get upset.” That one earned me a slap on the arm.

“I want to know. I need to know that you haven’t spent this time...waiting for me.”

Ah, there it was. The crux of the problem and the underlying reason for her earlier breakdown. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story…”

“I’ve got time.” She snuggled up against me again and I shifted a little. My arse was beginning to hurt from sitting on the ground, but as long as she was comfortable, I would endure.

“Okay.” I sat still, gathering my thoughts about that odd, unsettling, exhilarating time of my life. “I know you remember the bit with the planes and the buildings and the falling, right?” Hermione nodded and I went on. “Right, well, right before then was when me and Harry were made full Aurors. As soon as planes could fly again, the American Wizarding Council blokes wanted a group of us to check out some leads on some Dark wizard activity in the wake of the catastrophe.”

“Planes? Did you have to fly to the United States?”

“Yeah. They weren’t letting anyone in or out by magic for a while there. Bloody annoying that was. I dunno how Muggles do it, packed like sardines in a tin.” I repressed a shudder at the memory of being cooped up in that awful box for what seemed like endless hours.

“Was Pandora an American you met?” Hermione asked quietly, looking down at the grass.

“Who’s telling this story? All will be revealed, just be patient.” She looked back up at me and I sort of lost track of where I was, mesmerized by her eyes in the moonlight.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the tin of sardines. Anyway, we get there and it’s just...bedlam. Nobody knows what’s going on with who where until finally Shacklebolt had to get them all organized. We started out in Washington, D.C. and then moved up to New York.”

“I was supposed to go to New York that fall.”

“Yeah? I wonder if we would have run into each other?”

Hermione shook her head and smiled. “I doubt it. There are millions of people there. It’s very unlikely we would have even known the other was there. What did you do in New York, Ron?”

“Oh, well...me and Harry, we were brand new, right? So, they didn’t have us doing a whole lot. None of the heavy investigating or anything like that. We did mostly interviews with different witches and wizards.” The memories of those interviews came back as an intense swirl of images and I felt my throat closing. “Did you know,” I started, clearing my throat, “did you know that there was a wizarding firm in one of the buildings?”

“What? No, I had no idea.” The shock in her voice was plain and she pulled back from me again.

“Yeah. Not very big. Mostly research like what you do. Did. Whatever.” I didn’t like having the twelve inches or so between us, so I pulled her close to me again. “So, we talked to a lot of those folks. They only lost one or two in the disaster and a few of them managed to save some Muggles with tandem Apparition. I think some of them got an Order of Merlin or whatever they have over there.

“And me and Harry...listening to these people day in and day out, telling their horrible stories...what did we decide to do when get finally got a break?” I paused for a moment before going on. This was the hard part of the story. “Bloody idiots we were. Instead of going to the Muggle cinema or doing something normal, we decide to go out to the site and have a look around. We were just daft enough to think that us, a couple of green nobodies just out of training, had a better eye for spotting Dark wizard involvement than a score of seasoned Aurors.”

Hermione’s arms around me tightened, threatening to cut off my breath. “I never went. I saw it on the Muggle news, though. It looked awful.”

“It was. Pretty much the most horrible thing I’d seen...and that’s counting Neville in his underwear. All of that rubble and steel and...stuff.” My small attempt at humor did nothing to drive the images out of my head. Images of homemade missing persons signs and miniature shrines and the stories from the wizards we’d interviewed had made for some pretty horrific stuff.

I tried to shake it off; she’d asked about Pandora, not about the time I spent voluntarily sifting through ruined bits of building. Shifting my gaze to the pond, I tried to lighten my tone. “Anyway, things were a little...weird for a while when we got back. I felt like I just couldn’t quite settle into myself, you know?”

“So...what did you do to, um, settle into yourself?” she asked quietly, sounding almost afraid of the answer.

“Well, love, I got into a bit of trouble,” I shifted on the grass again, my arse now completely numb and made to stand up, helping Hermione up from the ground.

“Pandora?”

“Yeah.” Thinking about Pandora for the first time in years, I felt extraordinarily restless and I led Hermione to the edge of the overgrown pond, my eyes searching for smooth, flat stones. There weren’t too many left, but I managed to find a few. “So, one day when me and Harry were at lunch in the canteen, we sort of caught each other’s eye and she gave me this look...like she liked the look of me, you know? I didn’t know who she was; all I knew was this really hot bird was looking me up and down.” I skimmed one of the rocks out into the pond, remembering how Bill had taught me to skip rocks one summer.

“So, anyway, here’s me and her looking at each other in the canteen one day and a few days later I’ve got her backed up against her desk.” I glanced at Hermione out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge her reaction. She looked calm, so I went on. “She’d been flirting with me every time we ran across each other in the halls and it sort of…escalated.”

“I’d say so,” she murmured quietly, squeezing my hand. “So...how come you never…?”

“Brought her to meet my mum and dad?” I barked out a short laugh and shook my head. “Well, I thought Mum and Dad would take exception to me bringing another man’s wife home to meet them.”

“What? She was married? Ron!” Her voice was shocked and I turned to look at her, bracing for the stream of abuse I was sure she was about to unleash. She surprised me by simply shaking her head and looking away from me. Somehow that made me feel worse than her harsh words would have.

“Hermione...you promised...” I said, keeping my voice light.

“I’m not really upset, Ron. Just more surprised, I suppose.”

“Oh, believe me, I was shocked as hell when I found out. D’you know who she was married to?” Hermione shifted her gaze back to me and shook her head. “Riordan Murphy sound familiar?”

Sudden comprehension dawned in her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh! Oh Ron, oh no!”

“Oh yes!”

“What did you do when you found out?”

“I stopped seeing her for a while.”

“For a while?”

It was my turn to look away now and I focused on an old, fat frog croaking away at the edge of the pond. “She started to write letters, the ones you found. Telling me how unhappy she was and how I was the only thing keeping her sane and blah blah blah.” I looked back at Hermione and shrugged. “Frankly, I sort of felt the same way. After all that...stuff, it felt too good to be reminded that I was alive and whole.”

As I spoke, I was horrified to hear my own voice hitch and feel my nose begin to sting. I pulled her close to me and buried my face in her hair, taking slow, deep breaths before saying anything else. “Anyway, we carried on, got careless and we got caught.”

“That must have been awful,” she said, her voice muffled against my shirt.

“It was. Almost got sacked from the department. Apparently you don’t sleep with a Wizengamot member’s wife and expect to get off lightly. As it was, I was on a pretty stiff probation for the better part of a year.” I stood quietly for a few moments, thinking back to that wonderful, awful time until I felt Hermione squeeze me hard around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, looking up at me.

“What for?”

“Goading you, I guess. Making you talk about something you didn’t want to. Snooping around your things.”

“Hey, no worries, yeah?” I stroked my finger down her soft cheek. “I can hardly blame you, can I? I don’t have anything to hide from you. If you really want to know something, just ask, okay?” She nodded and squeezed me again, almost squeezing the breath right out of me.

“Let’s go back inside,” she said quietly, releasing her death grip from my waist.

“Are you sure?”

She smiled up at me and nodded. “I’m sure. Don’t you dare leave me alone with all of them!” She poked me in the shoulder and grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward the house.

Walking back, I felt as if a nagging ache had finally been relieved. I hadn’t been lying when I told Hermione I’d not thought of Pandora in years and I’d completely forgotten about those angst-filled letters she’d sent, but somehow the memory of her and the shame of our predicament had been there, lying just under the surface. I felt a bit like I’d just had some big confession, which is ridiculous when you think about it. I was involved in the biggest scandal the Ministry had seen in years and just about everyone who knew me knew about it. I was damn lucky they’d managed to keep it out of the papers. But Hermione hadn’t known about it and that made all the difference.

When we reached the back door, I glanced at Hermione again. She looked much more relaxed and smiled happily back at me, causing my stomach to perform a perfect swan dive down to my toes. Another burst of laughter distracted me and I shook my head. “I don’t really want to go back in there,” I said, hesitating with my hand on the doorknob.

“I don’t either.” Hermione shot me a mischievous grin and dropped my hand, quickly kicking off her sandals before sprinting from the porch and out into the garden. My heart gave a huge thump as I took off after her, my longer legs making short work of her small head start.

When I caught her, her shriek of laughter was quickly silenced by my kisses as we sank back down to the cool grass, the old oak and the frogs our only witnesses. After what seemed like hours, she pulled away and looked at me, her dark eyes serious.

“What?” I asked, turning onto my back and tracing the bridge of her nose with my finger.

“Were you?”

“Was I what?”

“Waiting. For me.”

I shrugged. “Not consciously, maybe. I didn’t not go out with women as if I was sure you’d show up at any second.”

She was quiet for a moment and I was afraid she was going to erupt again. “So,” she said slowly, as if weighing her words, “if you had been with someone...when I saw you last week…?”

“Yes?”

“So if you had been with someone when I saw you last week would, you would have left her for me?” she asked all in a rush.

Interesting. Maybe here was another reason for her earlier meltdown. I already knew what my answer would be, but I let her sit there and stew for a few moments as I pretended to weigh the pros and cons. “That depends, I suppose. Would she be as pretty as you?”

“Stunning.”

“As smart as you?”

“Smarter.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

She smiled and shook her head, looking down at the grass. “It’s possible, believe me.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re asking me if I had been with someone who was better looking and smarter than you with better hair—”

“Ron! I did not say better hair!”

“You were thinking it. So, better looking, smarter, better hair, younger,” I said, grinning at her warning glare. “And you just dropping into my lap?” She was looking back down at the grass, ripping up bits and I stroked my finger down her cheek, drawing her eyes to mine. “Hermione, I could have been dating a page three girl and it wouldn’t have mattered.”

Her face lit up with a brilliant smile and she leaned in to kiss me some more and I began to wish that we were anywhere but my parents’ back garden, especially when I heard the unmistakable sounds of someone making too much noise on purpose as they walked toward the oak.

“What do you want, Harry?” I growled, scowling at him over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Hey, don’t get pissed off at me, mate. Your mum wanted someone to check up on you two.”

“And you so graciously volunteered.”

“Could have been George or Percy,” he shrugged, keeping his eyes on the pond behind us.

“Hm. Yeah, that would have been worse.” I glanced down at Hermione. She looked mortified at being found by Harry with my hand in her dress and I smiled. “Anyway, can you tell them we’ve left?”

Harry gave a low chuckle and smiled. “Sure. See you, Hermione.”

“Good night, Harry,” she said, her voice sounding a bit higher than normal. “Is he gone?”

“He’s gone.” I untangled myself from her and stood up, brushing the oak leaves from my hair and shirt. I held my hand out to Hermione and helped her stand. “Come on, love. Let’s go home.”


End file.
